


All Strung Out In Song

by ashamedbliss



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, BAMF Morgana, Boss/Employee Relationship, Crushes, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Flirting, Indie Music, Music, Musical References, Power Dynamics, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8001430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashamedbliss/pseuds/ashamedbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana le Fay is many things: beautiful, intimidating, a millionaire, and owner of Avalon.co.uk, the world-leading music streaming site. She's also Merlin's new boss, and if Merlin can keep his tiny, ever-so-slighty inconvenient crush on her in check, he might just have a chance, both at his job and with Morgana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Strung Out In Song

**Author's Note:**

> My first Mergana fic! I love this fic so much, not just because of the pairing but also because it's all about music. I'm also in love with this Morgana, you'll find out in good time why! I have about ten thousand words written so far, probably about halfway at least, but I was so excited to share that I just couldn't help myself from posting :') Please enjoy and let me know what you think! <3
> 
> Title is from 'Ambulance' by TV On The Radio

Merlin faces the mirrors in the lift and swallows dryly as he adjusts his tie for the seventeenth time since leaving his flat this morning. He knows first impressions count, so he rakes his hands through his hair, pulling at the lapels of his suit jacket (only a Marks and Spencers one, but expensive enough for him anyway) and taking a deep breath as the robotic voice announces that he has arrived at the top floor.

He finds his desk quickly, as it’s the only one on the floor and is empty, positioned outside a large office belonging to a certain _Ms le Fay_. Merlin hasn’t met the woman he is now the personal assistant to: his interview was with a snobbish man called Arthur, who was in charge of _Avalon_ ’s HR department. Despite how poorly Merlin had thought he had done, he received a call within two days to let him know that he’d received the job.

Merlin had dropped the phone when he’d heard the news, picking it up to hear Arthur nearly shouting in his ear. He was fresh out of university with no experience; in his eyes his only two redeeming qualities were that he was polite and that he loved music. Apparently that was all Avalon.co.uk, world-famous music streaming website, required of him.

Merlin has just logged onto his computer when the phone on his desk starts to ring. He gawps at it for a moment, before he answers it. “Um, hello?”

A soft sigh at the other end. “I see that your telephone skills need working on,” a posh female voice says. “Come through and we’ll have a little chat.”

The line goes dead, and Merlin blinks at the receiver in his hand for a second. _Oh_. That must’ve been the voice of Ms le Fay. He had been expecting an older woman with a smoker’s cough or something, not the purr that had come down the line. Adjusting his tie one final time, Merlin stands up and turns to the door, knocking hesitantly before opening it and stepping into the office.

The room is spacious, with a panorama of London spread along the floor to ceiling windows on the far wall. One wall is filled with shelves of vinyl, the other with shelves of CDs. In the middle of it all sits a large glass desk complete with iMac, and a very attractive woman.

“Merlin,” the woman, the supposed Ms le Fay, purrs, standing and extending a delicate hand across the desk. Merlin takes it and shakes it limply, his bones nearly crushed by her tight grip. Her nails are a bright red. “My name is Morgana. Welcome to Avalon.”

“Morgana,” Merlin mumbles to himself, looking into her green eyes, the kind of eyes that could eat him whole. “Yes,” he says louder. “Um, hello. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he manages, remembering his manners.

Morgana laughs delicately, a little peel of laughter that Merlin can’t help but blush at. “Arthur wasn’t lying in his notes,” she says, more to herself than Merlin, before she gestures at the chair in front of the desk. “Sit. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Merlin sits cautiously, wiping his palms on his trousers. He didn’t realise his boss would be so young, or so fucking _beautiful_. He tries his hardest to listen to the list of tasks Morgana is reeling off to him, but he is too busy admiring how her pale blue blouse fits her body perfectly, or how her jawline might be the most incredible thing he’s seen all year, or how her red-painted lips form a strong line when she realises he hasn’t been listening to a single word she’s said.

_Fuck_.

“Any questions, Merlin?” she asks softly, a slight smirk now on her face.

“Er, no, Miss le Fay, um...”

Merlin’s embarrassment is rewarded with that laugh again, which might soon be the death of him if he can’t keep his dick in control around his new boss. “Please, call me Morgana. There’s no need for formalities when we’re going to be working so closely together.”

Did Merlin imagine the emphasis on _closely_ , or has this job already turned him mad? “Um, yes. I’ll... go.”

Merlin bolts from the room and sits down at his desk, cradling his head in his hands. Maybe he should just quit? Granted, there’s no other PA position that pays this generously, and he would never find another position in the music industry without a relevant degree (every day he curses 17-year-old Merlin for choosing to study Medieval History, of all things), but at least he wouldn’t embarrass himself hourly in front of a very, very beautiful woman.

He smacks his head against his desk. He is so, _so_ fucked.

*

“I am so, _so_ fucked.”

“Fired on your first day? That’s pretty impressive, mate.”

Merlin picks up a cushion off the sofa and throws it at his flatmate. “Fuck _off_ , Will. The job’s fine.”

Will deflects the cushion onto the floor, not turning away from his Xbox game. “So what have you done then?”

Merlin sits down heavily on the sofa. “It’s my boss.”

“Is it that dickhead that interviewed you?” Will says, before whooping in celebration. “No scope!”

“You’re an idiot,” Merlin says sincerely, before taking off his suit jacket and then his tie. “No, it’s worse. _She_ is absolutely stunning.”

“Nice tits?” Will asks, looking at Merlin for the first time since he’s come in.

Merlin sighs, shaking his head. “I have no idea how you actually manage to pull, you know. None of the odds are in your favour. You have shit chat--”

“Oi! The ladies _love_ shit chat. Plus, I have extremely low standards. So who’s this boss lady anyway? Famous enough to be on Google, right?”

Will pauses his game and reaches for his phone, pulling up his internet browser and looking at Merlin expectantly. “Morgana le Fay,” Merlin says resignedly, ignoring the curl of excitement in his gut. “Head of Avalon.”

Their cramped little flat is silent for a moment as Will waits for the images to load on his device. He lets out a low whistle, scrolling down the screen. “Well?” Merlin asks with impatience, because despite everything, Will is his best friend, and there’s a tiny part of Merlin that wants his approval in his choices of attraction. Not that he can help it, of course.

Will looks at him, grinning wolfishly. “You’re right,” Will says. “You are absolutely _fucked_.”

*

Arms full of CDs, Merlin is making his way from the music analysts’ suite up to his desk again. He manages to send half of them clattering to the floor as he tries to press the lift button, and finds them placed back into the cradle of his arms by a young woman with a bright smile.

“You must be Merlin,” she says sympathetically, tucking a tight curl of hair behind her ear. They both step into the lift when it arrives. “I’m Gwen. Arthur’s PA,” she adds with a little nod to herself. “Top floor?”

“Yes please,” Merlin says. “How is Arthur? He seems like,” Merlin pauses to look around the lift, as if Arthur had just materialised and was glaring at him. Again. “A bit of a dick, to be fair.”

Gwen laughs. “Yes, I do suppose he comes across that way. He’s okay to live with, though.”

Merlin pales, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Wait. Is he your? But? No? Oh, _God_.”

Gwen pats Merlin’s shoulder, still giggling, as Merlin feels his face go bright red. “It’s fine. I know he can be a bit of a dick,” Gwen says, sticking her tongue out at Merlin. “This is my floor, but I’ll come say hello some time. And Morgana’s not as ice cold as she seems,” Gwen says, waving as the lift doors begin to close again.

Merlin shuts his eyes for a few moments, wondering when the gods will be kind to him and allow him to interact with people without making a tit of himself.

He arrives back at his desk, letting the disks fall onto the already cluttered surface. Morgana has asked him to collect the lucky demo discs that had passed the music analysts’ tests, and were ready for her to choose a winner to be featured on Avalon’s front page. Merlin settles into his seat, deciding to start sorting the twenty-odd CDs by genre first - a more difficult task than usual as he recognises not a single one of the band’s names.

“Merlin,” a voice says over his shoulder, and Merlin’s stomach turns liquid. He looks up to find Morgana standing over him, a small, knowing smile on her face. “What do you think of the final selection, then?”

Merlin swallows heavily. “Well, I haven’t heard any of them, really, and all I’ve done is sort them into genres, which is a bit difficult since most of them seem to be niche little sub-genres, and I don’t know how well those ones will do on the front page...”

He trails off and looks up at Morgana again, who nods slightly. She looks like a queen when she towers above him like this, Merlin thinks.

Morgana places a hand on his shoulder, then, and it burns his skin all the way through his shirt and suit jacket. He gawps at it, there, touching him, the blood red nails and her perfect, slender fingers. No rings. He wishes her hand could be there always, grounding him, driving him forward.

“A fair assumption,” she says, and Merlin is drowning in it all, the sound of her voice and the smell of her perfume, so close that he can’t even _think_. “I’d like you to choose me a final three by close of play, then bring them to me with justification for your choices.”

Merlin swallows again, mouth suddenly dry. “Okay,” he manages without his voice breaking, nothing short of a miracle.

Morgana smiles widely, one of those smiles which is so close to a smirk, and makes Merlin think he’s seeing Morgana, the beautiful woman with a fierce passion for music and not Ms le Fay, the most powerful woman in the streaming industry. When he thinks of those two women combined, he can’t even breathe. She squeezes his shoulder, and the air in Merlin’s lungs freezes. “Thank you, Merlin,” she says smoothly, and he loves it, _loves_ it when she says his name like that, like it deserves a whole sentence to itself.

Merlin isn’t entirely sure if he imagines it or not, because he’s half-hard already and his palms are so sweaty, but then Morgana just traces the nape of his neck, the gap between the collar of his shirt and where his hair starts. A tiniest brush of a fingertip, and then it’s gone. “I think we’re going to work very well together,” she says, before she disappears back into her office.

Merlin bites his lip, counting down from twenty as he stares at the corner of one of the CDs, his fists curled at his sides. Once he reaches zero, he quickly glances over his shoulder towards Morgana’s closed door, before he quickly but subtly makes a beeline for the bathroom. As soon as he locks himself in a stall, he unzips his trousers, taking his dick in his hands and wondering how the hell he’s going to survive the rest of the day, let alone the week.

*

“Hmmm,” Morgana says, tapping the end of her pen against her lip repeatedly. Merlin can’t stop watching, wringing his hands behind his back. She sweeps her gaze across his shortlist of three CDs once more. “I can see this working.”

Merlin breathes a sigh of relief, looking out over the sunset and then back at Morgana. One of her eyebrows is raised, and that smirk is back on her face again. “I’m glad you agree,” he says, nodding, mustering his final shreds of confidence.

Morgana sits back in her chair, crossing her legs and pressing her fingers together. “Is this the kind of music you listen to?” she asks, a devilish look in her eye.

Merlin panics, glancing down at the demo discs. They’d sounded okay, but they weren’t his thing. “They’re a bit... wishy-washy?” Merlin asks, as if he’s seeking Morgana. He knows he is, deep down; music is as important to him as air is. “I prefer something a bit rockier, a bit heavier?”

“Something that goes harder?” Morgana asks with a lilt to her voice, and Merlin decides that this is it, he’s going to die right here and now in Morgana’s office.

But he doesn’t. Morgana stands up from her chair, crossing the room in her expensive high heels to peruse the shelf full of CDs. He tries but fails to not look at her arse, perfectly accentuated in the kind of tight pencil skirt Morgana seems to favour. “What kind of artists do you listen to?” she asks, not looking over to him. Her fingers touch her jawline as she muses, and Merlin thinks she might be even more beautiful in profile.

He licks his lips, impossibly dry. “Um. Biffy, Billy Talent. Muse.”

Morgana looks to him. “ _Muse_?”

“Their older stuff,” Merlin says quickly, nearly tumbling over his words, and breathes a sigh of relief when Morgana nods slyly. “Alt-J, some pop artists, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Morgana says, moving down the shelves. She plucks out a CD and walks to Merlin, handing it to him. “Here.” A girl’s painted face is on the front of it, against a blue background. “FKA Twigs, kind of weird like Alt-J, with the kind of vibe Biffy and Muse carry. You’ll see,” she says with a smirk, and when Merlin looks up from the CD to Morgana he realises she’s snuck up on him again. Stood like this as equals, face to face, she’s nearly as tall as him in her heels. “And yes, I'm aware there's an irony in running a streaming website but working with CDs. Sometimes things are better when they're physical, you know?”

Morgana’s face is so close to his, and her eyes have a wicked glint in them. Merlin blames the fluorescent lighting, or maybe the fact that he's sure this job is turning him insane. “Playlists are a lot more intimate,” he says with a small nod to himself, regretting the words once they're out of his mouth.

“Indeed,” Morgana breathes before grins like a Cheshire cat and steps back, turning to walk back to her seat.

Merlin feels a little dizzy. “Is, er, is that all, Morgana?”

Morgana looks up from her seat to him, steepling her fingers. “What do you do in your free time?”

Merlin blinks, cocking his head. He sits down slowly in the chair opposite Morgana’s desk as she watches on, hawk-like. “When I’m not at work?”

“Yes, Merlin, that is the time generally regarded as your _free time_ ,” she says, voice heavy with sarcasm, but a smile graces her lips. She's normal Morgana again, not the Morgana who confuses Merlin with what might almost be flirting on her part. “Well?”

“I like going to gigs?” Merlin tries, feeling a little like he’s being interviewed. If he’s honest, he always feels like this around Morgana, like he’s always trying to win her over; not far from the truth. “I saw Royal Blood at Brixton Academy a few weeks back.”

Morgana smiles widely. “Good choice. Nice venue too.” She leans forward and the cuff of her blouse goes up her wrist a little. Can Merlin see a tattoo or has he finally stooped to the level of hallucinations? “But I know all of this from your CV,” she says in a lower tone. “Tell me something I don’t know. Tell me what makes you _you_ ,” she purrs.

Merlin runs a hand through his hair. “I draw? I guess, I just... I don’t know, just have this _affinity_ for it, it’s hard to explain,” he says, looking up at Morgana. “I could draw you.”

The words are out of his mouth before his clumsy hands can reach up to cover it. “Really?” Morgana asks brightly, looking a little bit shocked herself.

“I mean, I... if you want?” Merlin asks, trying his hardest not to squeak. “I don’t need a reference or a photo, I just... that’s the weird thing.”

“I’d like that,” Morgana says, eyes flicking to her computer as it makes the sound of an email alert. “As long as you listen to that CD,” she warns, looking to Merlin out of the corner of her eye.

Merlin takes the dismissal when he hears it. “Yes, of course,” he says as he stands up. “I’ll, um.... You know where I am,” he murmurs as he turns for the door.

“Merlin?” Morgana calls when his back is turned. He spins around again. “Weird things are good,” she says with that insufferable smirk of hers, before Merlin makes to leave again, escaping the scent of Morgana’s perfume and slinking back to his own desk, wondering just what he’s gotten himself into.

“You’ll draw her? Really, Merlin?” he whispers to himself, head in his hands, trying to ignore the art already manifesting itself in his mind. “You’re fucked.”


End file.
